God Sent
by Illucida
Summary: While at a dinner party, Dick Grayson begins to feel a little overwhelmed.


Notes: This is for the Recipe challenge over on the YJ Challenges forum; I encourage all to go check it out. My recipe was given to me by ChuChuMarshmallow as follows: "Whisk one Dick Grayson into a formal social gathering, on a mission or otherwise. Sprinkle a bit of jealousy over a family at the party. Bake slowly in an envious broth for 5 minutes. Remove from party and chill. Add Bruce Wayne for flavor."

**Edit: **Extended one of the scenes to provide more believability. Also, thank you to the reviewer that informed me that _The Last Supper _wasn't in the Louvre!

Standard Disclaimer(s) Apply

* * *

Dick adjusted his tie self-consciously. He hated formal events; he had to slick back his hair, wear a monkey-suit, and play the role of polite honor-student.

"Bruce, do I really have to wear this?" the Boy Wonder complained, tugging again at the horrible tie.

"I could have Alfred get you a bow-tie if you prefer," Bruce smirked, adjusting his own tie.

Dick made a face, "No, thanks."

"Good, now hurry up. We're already going to be late."

"How can we be late? All we have to do is go downstairs," Robin grumbled.

Bruce shot Dick a stern look, "Dinner is supposed to be served in ten minutes and I still have to make a speech."

"What, think you'll have problems reading off the cue-cards you made this morning?" Dick grinned cheekily, hurrying past Bruce to avoid any backlash.

"Ha-ha. Very funny, Dick."

Making sure Dick wasn't looking, Bruce slipped the cue-cards off of his dresser. He had almost forgotten them.

* * *

The annual back-to-school dinner party was always boring. Bruce had to sit with the other members of the Board of Education, so Dick was always stuck sitting with other families at the table nearest to the Board's.

"And how was your summer, Mister Grayson?" Charles Burbank, the father of one of his classmates and an employee of Wayne Tech, asked.

Questions like these were always annoying. He couldn't exactly say that he had a blast keeping the streets of Gotham safe, now could he? So he always had to answer with the safe, boring…

"It was pleasant, sir. Father took me to Paris to see the Louvre."

Well, it was kind of true. They _had _gone to the Louvre, if only to stop Catwoman from stealing the _Mona Lisa_.

"How charming; did you see the _Mona Lisa_?"

Why, yes he did indeed, in between throwing punches and trying not to break anything. "Yes, sir. Da Vinci's finest work, in my opinion."

"Indeed."

"How was your summer?" Dick didn't really care, but etiquette required him to ask it back. Whatever mundane thing this family did would never amount to what Bruce and he did on a day-to-day basis.

Charles Jr., beside his father answered excitedly, "It was amazing, Dick! Dad took Stephanie and me on a Disney Cruise around the Caribbean!"

"Now, now, Junior; not so loud," Emily Burbank, the mother, chastised lovingly.

Dick found it hard to swallow. Emily sounded so much like his mother just now.

"But it was so fun! We got to go scuba diving, and swim with the dolphins!"

"I'm glad that you enjoyed it so much, son," Emily said fondly, brushing her son's bangs out of his eyes.

"Mooom," Charles Jr. dragged out, jerking away and running his hands through his bangs, trying to fix the 'damage' his mother inflicted.

Emily rolled her eyes, "Oh, you. What in the world am I going to do with you?"

He couldn't do this. He had to get out of here.

"I'm sorry, but please excuse me. I'm not feeling too well. I'll see you in class, Charlie," Dick quickly spoke, getting up and just barely remembering to push in his chair.

"Go right ahead," Charles replied, bewildered.

"Poor boy; he didn't even get to touch his dinner," Emily said, referring to the full plate of food.

* * *

Dick rushed to his room, only slowing down to nod respectively at guests until he made his way upstairs. Entering his room, he yanked off his tie and made his way to the balcony. The air was crisp and cool, like a much needed shock to the senses.

God, why did he have to react like that? His parents had been dead for _years _now. Bruce is probably so P.O'd…

Running his hands through his hair, Dick leaned against the railing, taking a few deep breaths to try and clam down.

"Richard."

He shouldn't be surprised. Of course Bruce would follow him up.

Turning around to face the music, Dick began, "I'm sorry, Bruce, I shouldn't—

Dick stopped when Bruce placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, Dick."

Dick swallowed. He could feel the tears welling up, and god_damn_it, thirteen was too old for this shit. Bruce closed the distance between them, arms gently enfolding him. Dick clutched at the lapels of Bruce's tux, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to stem the onslaught of tears.

"It's just, I miss them _so_ much."

"Shh, it's alright to miss them Dick. I'm nearing 30 and I still miss my parents."

After a moment, Dick sniffed and pulled back, running his sleeve across his eyes.

"Thanks, Bruce."

Bruce smiled softly, "Are you ready to go back down there?"

"Do I really have to? I told the Burbank's that I wasn't feeling well."

"I guess I can have Alfred bring you something up."

"Make it Death by Chocolate."

"We'll see," Bruce responded, ruffling his ward's hair.

Dick smiled. He might not have parents, but he did have a Bruce. And that…that was a God sent.


End file.
